Everyone Has a Story, Even Bandits
by FallenCrown
Summary: This is a tale about the most feared Nord in all of Tamriel; a bandit and his company who is hired for protection by only the wealthiest. They defend their employer from other bandits, law-enforcement, and even the natural (and unnatural) wilds of Skyrim. All is well until he meets Faelwen, or well, kidnaps her because her father hadn't paid in some time.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

"Have you ever felt so alone that you had nowhere to run, except for straight ahead? To blindly put one foot in front of the other while praying you won't call off some invisible cliff to your death. How could anyone know what you're feeling if all you do is smile, or at least show no emotion, on the outside? They can't. None can know what's beneath your skin, whether it be guilt, passion, or lust- something is there.

"Fighting for your homelands is the noble thing to do, be remembered for a few years as that soldier who died for a cause that may or may not be relevant. Or maybe that thief who stole from the rich and gave to the poor, he was still a thief, right? Or what about that merchant who supplied all of those people supplies while the neighboring cities laid in siege? He was a hero, right?

Well, this is my story, and if you think I'm a hero afterwards, then I will call you a liar or an idiot. If you see me as the bastard I am, then I have no words for you, as you have already made up your mind on what kind of person you believe I am to be."

* * *

"What do you mean you don't have the money," the massive giant-like Nord stood in front of the Imperial. His voice was hushed and full of daggers and his silver eyes pierced the dark ovals as the Imperial's voice rang out.

"I-I'll have it by next week, I swear!" the Imperial pleaded, raising his arms up to his chest and clasping them together, begging.

"If I gave you time past your due date then I would be running a shit-show, now wouldn't I?" the Nord growled, parting two thin lips to show teeth as white as snow.

"B-Bosch, please!" the Imperial had thrown himself to the ground, his voice full of sobs. "Think of my wife, my children!"

Bosch took only a few quick strides before he crossed the distance between them but the Imperial's face was too busy being pushed into the rug as he sobbed. Squatting down, and using his hands to hold him just inches from the ground, Bosch soundlessly closed in on the Imperial's ear and smirked, "What family?"

The Imperial almost jumped out of his skin when Bosch's voice cut through the air. "No, you wouldn't dare!" his voice was full of anger, but the instant paling of his skin told otherwise. "Would you?" Now the Imperial's voice was bled dry, as if it had gone with his courage and complexion.

"I don't know, did I?" Bosch moved back some, still that smirk lining his face. Pale blonde hair littered his chiseled jaw line and a mass of blonde hair heaped upon his head. It was shorter than how most Nord's kept it, but it wasn't a close shave by any means. Though, he did have this rough demeanor about him, his armor screamed business. Iron everywhere, form-fitting, and scratches and gouges from battles scarred the thing. Even a long, tethered cape draped onto the ground, lined with thin fur. This was for looks of course, as he could stay warm in the coldest of climates.

"Look, I don't have time for this. If I give you one more week and you come up empty handed, I'll cut your fucking head off myself, got it?" Bosch said almost casually, but at the end he locked eyes with the man. The Imperial just nodded and put his face back into the rug to sob some more.

When Bosch is called a giant, they're far from exaggerating. Some doors he had to duck under, he had specially tailored clothing, and his armor is one of a kind. Standing at 6'6" (1.9 meters), the Nord was rather intimidating. Although he had handsome features, his reputation turned those what might be innocent smirks to daggers waiting to pop out of his mouth.

Bosch was once an outcast like most awkward children, but something happened that changed his life. Now, he is the head of the most notorious bandit group in all of Skyrim. Based in an abandoned fort outside of Windhelm Bosch had his own little kingdom, his army of bandits, his chef, his stable-hand, and lastly the throne room. Bosch never really cared for power though, he thought he was better than everyone else but he didn't want to be king or emperor, he just wanted gold. To have power by wealth was his dream.


	2. Chapter 1: Hello, Bailan

Standing in the room, darkness surrounded the blonde haired man as he breathed slowly. It was summer time in Northern Skyrim so Bosch was always caught sweating. It wasn't his fault; it was just a Nord thing, right? As he could hear his heart beating rhythmically against his chest, the man took one last inhale before opening his eyes. Blissful darkness was all that greeted him.

Grabbing a match and lighting a few candles, the room brightened up to something very castle like. The stone was ancient looking, but all the furniture was new. A four-post bed with burgundy and navy drapes, rich chocolate colored wood decorated the place in the form of chairs, cabinets, and a large bookshelf that covered one wall. Not all that lived in this old abandoned fort lived like this, but he was the leader of his crew, so he got to live however he wanted.

Grabbing the neatly stacked clothes on the table, he began to dress. They were thin, perfect for the weather just outside of his fortress, and vibrant colors filled the fibers. These were clothes for the wealthy and served only purpose, to fit in. Bosch clothed himself in the golden fabric laced with navy and white and looked at himself in the mirror. Aside from the few misplaced scars across his cheek, Bosch looked that of nobility. Brushing a bit of whimsy hair from his face, the bandit huffed once more before turning around and pushing the heavy wooden door with ease, only to lead to large stone stairs. Down he descended; candles lit his path and bits of moonlight spilled through the window panes, this was his favorite part of the fortress, all the windows were up high and few were seen below the battlements.

With the last few stairs to go, Bosch looked around and sighed. The hall was clear but a single flame still lapping a bit of wood in the large fireplace. Scoffing to himself, as the fire was pointless because it was already too warm in the damned place, Bosch walked to the opposite wall and knocked against two large wooden doors. Shuffling and cursing could be heard in response, and an old Redguard's head stuck out from the now cracked door.

"Wha' ye wan't fr-" he paused as he looked up at the blonde giant. "I thoug't ye be a man lookin' fer a late night snack." He opened the door wider and stepped through, his apron dirty and bits of hair slick back from sweat. The heat that came from the kitchen made Bosch take a step back, winching at how warm it was.

"Just informing you that I'm leaving, don't want your old ass worried about me," Bosch joked quietly. "Also, open a window, the place feels like a hot springs, Chef!"

The old Redguard just laughed, "Ye don' know wha' it's like to be old yet. Anyway, be saf', Bailan."

At the sound of that name, Bosch looked around to see if any of his men were still around. "I told you to not call me that," he growled, his silver eyes turned to slits as he peered at the man. "Just because you're old doesn't mean I won't cut you down where you stand."

"Oh, now, now, no on he'rd us. Don' get killed, we need tha' money you bring in," he laughed once more before shutting the door. Bailan only grumbled at the man and headed for the stables.

* * *

Quick note! This is the first official chapter, yes, but they will become longer (5k is my usual word count). This is short, but I wanted to get a bit of backstory before we jumped into the action! Next chapter will be up as fast as I can type!


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